From a Distance
by Cherry
Summary: Watching


From a Distance

Thanks to: Chelle, for Beta'ing  
  
Archive: I wouldn't mind knowing where, but go ahead and take it.  
  
Disclaimer: Unless I've been totally zoned out the last two years, I'm pretty sure that I don't own them.  
  
Feedback: Please? This is my first published fic, and my first attempt at writing either WW, or romance.  
  
*  
  
I wonder if she knows she's beautiful?   
  
She's biting her lower lip, just a little. She tends to when she concentrates. I bet she doesn't even know that she's doing it. If I told her, she wouldn't believe me.   
  
She's just sitting there, typing, but she's outshining any woman in the building. Maybe it is because she's just sitting there typing. She never pretends to be anything other than what she is.   
  
She puts up with so much stuff, from her boss, especially. I don't know how I'd do it if I were her. She cuts through the crap, seeing what they really mean to say. She has this unique ability to see just what you don't want her to see, to crack a joke when you're having a bad day. The others don't see her doing it, they just think that she's a little eccentric.  
  
The little quirks are just a mask that she wears. She doesn't fabricate them, they're part of her, but she pushes them. No one takes her too seriously, and that's the way that she likes it. She could carry this place in her sleep. She does, too, in ways that the others just don't see. She's behind the scenes, keeping morale high, making sure that things run smoothly, that everything gets done. She's such a part of life here that we don't even notice her a lot of the time.  
  
Or, at least, the others don't notice her a lot of the time.   
  
I'm always aware of her.  
  
We'd lose something if she wasn't here. It would be a little something, that people wouldn't even notice was gone at first, but it would affect all of us.  
  
I've tried to put myself in her head, figure out why she can be so true to herself, all the while not showing her true potential. I think I may have nailed it.  
  
If she's not heavily relied on, then when she stumbles, no one else can fall.  
  
But when she stumbles, people aren't close enough to catch her.  
  
She cuts to the core of people, but I don't think that she can see through me. I'm not always around her. I date other people. She wouldn't believe me if I told her how I feel. She'd probably tell me to stop bugging her and get back to work, or I'd have my bosses' wrath brought down upon me.  
  
She can't see herself for what she is. She's beautiful, on the inside, and out. She's so much more than the sum of her parts.  
  
And they're pretty fine parts, at that.  
  
She looks up to where I'm sitting on the couch, apparently looking out the window. I've gotten pretty good at watching her out of the corner of my eye. If I hadn't, the rumours would spread like wild fire.  
  
She calls my name, trying to get my attention. When I don't respond, she sighs, a sound that sends shivers up my back. She tries again, and I turn to towards her slowly, tapping the folder that holds my report, against my leg. My face is studiedly distracted.  
  
When she sees that she has my attention, she raises an eyebrow at me. Rough week? she asks sympathetically.  
  
You have no idea, I tell her.   
  
She smiles sympathetically. Look, Sam, it's Friday night, it's past time that you should be at home, working on whatever draft Toby wants for Monday. I told you before that Leo was in a meeting, and it wouldn't be out till late. Just leave the report with me, and I'll give it to him when he gets out.  
  
I hesitate. I should go, it's outside my character to stay this long just to hand something off.  
  
She misreads my pause. I promise not to lose it. I've been handling important documents for longer than you have, you know. There's some stuff I need to talk to our Chief of Staff about, so I'll still be here. Leo will get it as soon as he's done in his meeting with the President.  
  
I say. Something must be getting through on my face, because she raises that eyebrow again.  
  
Girl Scout's honour, she says, raising two fingers to her forehead, and snapping to attention.  
  
I laugh, trying to forget the impulse to brush the piece of hair off of her face which has fallen from behind her ear.  
  
she tells me, making a shooing motion with her hand. I stand up and hand her the report, savouring the brush of her skin against mine. Good night, Sam, she says, returning to her work, her lip once again between her teeth as she picks at the keys. The lights in the office tinge her with gold, not something particularly unusual, but it's still striking, even after all this time.  
  
Yeah. See you Monday, Margaret.  



End file.
